


You Shouldn't Be At Work Today

by WizardPartyForever



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: !!! i cant believe i almost forgot that, Jacket Kink, M/M, Multi, Office Sex, Omega!Alexander, Omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, alpha!jefferson, alpha!washington, cabinet meeting, heat cycles/in heat, i mean i guess its not an orgy but still, oh also!!!!, seriously guys this isn't how u have orgies it needs a bit more planning, under negotiated sex, unmentioned consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardPartyForever/pseuds/WizardPartyForever
Summary: Alexander Hamilton was told to skip work today.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thomas Jefferson's coat is my sexuality.  
> @breadsadist don't read this I love you too much

Alexander pulled back the collar of his shirt anxiously, eyes flicking back in forth, irrationally scanning the empty hallway for threats. He knew he shouldn’t be at work today; Washington had granted him the day off and forcefully told him that if he showed up to the white house in heat he would be escorted home and forced to pay the security guards responsible of said escort their salary for it. But he’d be damned if he let himself miss a cabinet debate for any excuse save death itself, and so, despite his discomfort and vulnerability, he marched into work, past the security checks, and breathed a sigh of relief when it became obvious that Washington’s promise had been a bluff and that the security guards all seemed oblivious to the fact that they were supposed to be on watch for him if he decided to come into work. He reached his office without any complications and sat down with a relieved sigh.

He had a half hour before the meeting, during which he tried to organize his notes (which led to thoughts of excitement at how thoroughly he was going to kick Jefferson’s ass, which led to thoughts of Jefferson, which led to him berating himself because no no no thoughts of Jefferson didn’t go well with heat, he should know this by now), but he soon gave up at attempting to focus and retreated to the bathroom to pull himself together before the meeting.

His heat wasn’t even that bad today; he knew it wouldn’t peak until tomorrow at earliest, at which point he truly wouldn’t be able to come to work (not that he wouldn’t try). This early on, though he could deal with a mild amount of slick and a bit of oversensitivity.

He looked up into the mirror, and his reflection told an entirely different story. There were dark bags under his eyes, ever present simply due to his complexion, but enhanced by the heat, and his facial hair was uncared for. He really looked a mess. Whatever. That didn’t matter. As long as he could keep his head, he was sure to blow Washington away at the meeting, and then, perhaps, he could prove that he was fine, he wasn’t stressed, he could handle a bigger workload, he had no problem working during heat-

“Hamilton.”

“Sir!” Alexander yelped, jumping to face the door where Washington himself had just walked in.

Washington stared down at him with a heavyset expression. “You shouldn’t be at work today.”

“Sir, I’m fine, I’m feeling fine, so I decided to - there’s a cabinet meeting today, I couldn’t - I have to go-”

Washington silenced him with a sharp look. “Alex, you can’t even string a coherent sentence together. Go home.”

And oh, did that strike a chord with him. Washington had called him /Alex/, not Hamilton or son or Alexander. Up until that point Alexander had had a firm grip on his hormones, but when Washington called him  _ Alex _ , he nearly melted. “Please, sir, I need to be at the meeting today, I know Jefferson is going to - to try something ridiculous and I need to stop him; I need to defend my debt plan and I have so many - so many ideas to propose and - stuff,” he finished lamely, but at least with more coherence. Washington’s stone face twitched for a moment into what Alexander hoped was a smile.

“You think Jefferson is going to try something ridiculous?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped.

“Nothing to take offence at; however, I seem to have noticed that it is you who makes the rash propositions, and Thomas who defends against them.”

“Sir! Have you ever disagreed with my propositions? Nevermind,” Alexander dismissed, temporarily escaping the hold of his hormones in the midst of their banter. “The point is, I have to beat Jefferson today. It’s important,” he pleaded.

Washington let out a deep sigh. “Hamilton, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Sir, I-”

“Fine. Stay at work today - but if you lose your self control, I will be very upset.”

“Yes, thank you sir, I’ll be fine,” Hamilton gushed. He looked at his watch, seeing that it was ten minutes until the meeting would begin. “I have to go and-” Washington walked past him towards the other sink, and a wave of his heavy scent flooded Alexander’s senses. He suddenly was struck with doubt as to whether he would really be able to retain said self control. “-Get my... notes.”

“Alright. Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.”

Once he was out of the same room as Washington, Alexander quickly regained confidence that he could make it through the day without complication. It was just that Washington’s presence was so powerful, he could never seem to keep his head around him, and if he continued to force himself into the office during times like these when no other rational human would try to work in part because he yearned for the attention of the alpha - well, that was for him, and him alone to know. That didn’t change the fact that he became a mess around Washington, though, and anyone would be able to see it - he would simply have to keep his distance from the president during the cabinet meeting.

That resolve was challenged when he entered the room at the same time as Washington. As he passed Alexander, Washington placed a hand on his shoulder and bent down to speak in his ear. Alexander clenched his hands under the table to keep them from trembling.

“Son, do get your debt plan through today. I know I have reprimanded you in the past for its… extravagance, but in all seriousness, I am counting on you to get it through.”

“You know how I feel about you calling me son, sir,” Alexander breathed, enveloped in Washington’s scent and heady presence.

“Of course.”

“You should probably go to your desk,” he stuttered. He could feel Washington’s eyes on him, calculating, taking in his stiff shoulders and trembling knees and the sweat beading on his forehead.

“I see.” Much to his relief, the man stood up without any more complications and passed him in order to reach his desk.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began once everyone was ready. “The issue on the table: Secretary Hamilton’s plan to assume state’s debts and establish a national bank. I trust you all have received and reviewed the plan?”

Alexander felt a thrill go through him at the mutterings of agreement that traveled through the cabinet. He knew it was a masterpiece - a long, wordy, complicated masterpiece, but that was even better because that was just proof of his brilliance and how anyone could disagree with it was a mystery to him-

“Secretary Jefferson. I believe you had an objection to it?” Washington addressed.

Well. There was one person…

“Yes - a few, sir, if you don’t mind.” Thomas Jefferson stood up. His chair didn’t scrape against the floor, and when he stepped around his desk to address the president the tail of his coat flapped around him with a flourish, the hideous thing somehow complimenting his elegance. Alexander hated every bit of it.

After granting Washington the proper respects, Jefferson turned to face Alexander. His gaze seemed to burn right through Alex’s skin, but he still forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“Hamilton.”

Alexander lifted his chin in response.

“What hell is this  _ garbage? _ ” Jefferson drawled.

The uncharacteristically straightforward comment caught him off guard. “I’m - excuse me?”

“This debt plan must be the stupidest idea you’ve come up with so far. I don’t even know where to start. You want the government to assume state’s debts - that’s the most unAmerican thing we could do right now. Wasn’t the point of the revolution independence? And now, you want what? More government control?”

Alexander shrunk in his seat as Jefferson continued to attack his plan, tearing it apart and doing a thorough job, not through logic but through his ridiculous theatrics, of gaining support across the rest of the cabinet. This was unlike Alexander; normally he would be nearly jumping from his seat, ready for his turn to destroy Jefferson’s argument with twice the venom as Jefferson. But Jefferson refused to break eye contact, and before Alex knew it, he was standing right on the other side of his desk, towering over Alex. The intensity with which he said the words made Alex squirm and struggle to draw in shaky breaths.

He was paying attention enough, however, to recognize at some point that Jefferson had insulted him. “Not true!” He exclaimed, his voice coming out as a yelp.

“Oh, if the shoe fits wear it. If New York’s in debt why should Virginia bear it?” He teased. Finally, Alexander had to back down; their staring contest had invoked a dreadful, familiar heat in his stomach that he would soon have to excuse himself to the restroom to attend to if he didn’t get his body under control sook. He let his eyes flick down to his desk, where he had a stack of notes he was supposed to be using to counter Jefferson. But somehow the lack of eye contact made things worse. He could still feel the heat of Jefferson’s gaze on him, and could smell his scent - oh God, could he smell his scent. Jefferson’s scent was different from Washington’s. It was hard to pinpoint specific scents; neither of them smelled like anything specific, but while Washington’s was more overpowering and forceful, Jefferson’s was inviting and tempting. And Alex couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. He wanted nothing more right now than to crawl across the table into Jefferson’s arms and shove his nose into the crook of his neck to get more of that smell, or better yet, between his thighs, where his scent was surely strongest. And though he couldn’t smell Washington right now, he knew that if he could he would turn into a shaking mess of want and need for Washington to bend him over and-

He became suddenly aware that Jefferson had stopped talking and was staring at him differently. “What the fuck, Hamilton?”

“Huh?”

“Are you in fucking heat?”

“I - yes?” Alexander answered tentatively. Had Jefferson… just now noticed?

“What the fuck.”

Alexander’s pulse picked up - It was out of excitement due to the situation, but his body seemed to interpret it as arousal, and he could feel his insides becoming wet - wetter, at least, than they had been before, and his cheeks flared up red when he realized that he had been fantasizing about  _ Jefferson and Washington _ so deeply that he had nearly soaked his underwear with slick. It was no wonder Jefferson looked so scandalized; everyone in the room could probably smell him right now.

He stood up much less gracefully than Jefferson had, and composed himself. He looked up at Washington for permission to talk. Washington sighed, exasperated at Alex’s antics, but nodded. “Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response.”

Alexander trudged his way through his refutation of Jefferson’s argument. He knew he was fucking it all up; his argument consisted mostly of insulting Jefferson. All the while, Jefferson was leaning against the table, arms crossed and a lazy grin settling on his face at the knowledge that Alexander was failing miserably. In his frustration, he ended his rant by shouting at Jefferson, “Hey, turn around, bend over, I'll show you where my shoe fits!”

At this, Washington had to practically jump over his desk to get in the middle of the two of them, as, aroused out of his mind or not, Alexander was ready to maul Jefferson in the middle of the Congress floor.

Over Washington's shoulder, Jefferson smirked, and taunted, “You don't have the votes, Hamilton.”

“That’s enough, Jefferson,” Washington said evenly without looking at him. He continued to stare Alex down. “Alexander.” He shivered. “Meet me in my office.”

“Yes sir,” Alexander positively whimpered. He turned on his heel and fled with as much dignity as he could.

Washington's office was big - too big. His scent clung to room faintly, but Alexander wanted to be enveloped. Wanting so be enclosed in a smaller space, he turned off the lights, closed the curtains, and wiggled under the desk. This wasn't very comforting though; the floors were hardwood and he was cold.

It was then that he had a wicked idea. Outside of the meeting room, there were a few coat racks holding coats of some the cabinet members - but Jefferson had been wearing his coat during the meeting, he thought regretfully. Still, his breath caught at the idea and he knew he wouldn't be able to put it away until he gave it a shot. And he was desperate; things had never escalated like this on the first day of his heat. So he sneaked back to the meeting room, where he could still hear voices talking through the doors.

With glee he set to sorting through the coats, but before he could pick any out, one of the doors leading to the room opened. Alex froze.

“Hamilton. What the hell are you doing?” Jefferson asked.

“Looking for my coat. What are you doing?” He spat in return, though the effect was mostly ruined by the quaver that ran through his voice.

Jefferson strode towards him, making his voice catch, and stopped right in front of him.

“W-well?” Alex prompted after a few moments of Jefferson doing nothing.

Slowly, deliberately, Jefferson reached out and dragged a finger down Alex’s chest - across the fabric of his coat. “You're wearing your coat, Alexander.”

_ Alexander. _

Alexander was positively shaking as Jefferson took off his own coat and stepped even closer to Alex in order to hang it up on the rack right next to him. “As for me, I'm simply using the restroom. You know, you should probably get out of here. Wouldn't want to disobey daddy Washington, would you?” He teased, before breaking whatever spell had been between the two and spinning around to make his way down the hall.

Alexander didn't respond or move until Jefferson's form disappeared around the corner. He looked up and down the hall, and, seeing no one, snatched up Jefferson's purple coat and took off back towards Washington's office.

It wasn't until he had set up his nest under the desk - his coat to lay on, Jefferson's coat to wrap himself in, and a spare white shirt he had found in Washington's desk drawers for a pillow - that he realized that Jefferson was sure to know that he had stolen his coat because he would only have been gone for a few minutes to use the bathroom and who else would have taken his coat in that time? As he breathed in the musky scent that clung to it, however, he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. Even when he wasn't in heat, Alexander found Jefferson heavenly. When he wasn't opening his mouth, at least. But in heat… Alexander would deny having spent more than a few cycles in his room thinking of Thomas Jefferson.

He pulled away from the coat to bring Washington’s shirt to his face. The scent wasn’t that strong, as the shirt had probably been sitting in the drawer as a backup for a long time, but he still took comfort in having it near him.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t brought himself to relief yet during this cycle, which was rare even on the first day when his heat was weakest - usually he would excuse himself to the bathroom a few times during work, at least. He thought of the bathroom down the hall, and how long the walk would be, and how comfy he was here… Washington wouldn't mind, would he?

Upon reaching the conclusion that no, he wouldn't (and if he would, not-in-heat Alex could deal with the consequences later), Alexander peeled off his pants and soaked through underwear so that he could… touch himself. Under George Washington’s desk.

God, he was fucked up.

That thought was quickly lost on him as his hand found its way straight to his cock and he was filled with relief. He let his head fall against the desk and his eyes close, lazily stroking up and down. It didn’t take long for him to reach a desperate state, having been aroused all day, and before he even got to the point of fingering himself, he was spilling into his hand and onto his own coat - oh, his poor coat, he thought, even as he wiped his hand off on it and tossed it aside. He didn’t feel quite relieved - this session had been regretfully short, and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he could go home and really serve himself - but this would have to do.

He reflected giddily that he had just brought himself off under Washington’s desk, in his worst political enemy’s coat. He wondered how Washington would react to finding him, naked from the bottom down with what he had done clear as day. Perhaps he would get angry and yell, which, rationally, Alex knew would upset him, but in his head, the image of Washington looming over him and displaying his dominance was an alluring one. After a moment of consideration, he added Jefferson to the picture as well, who would, of course, be mad about his coat. Washington might take him over his lap and - Alex’s voice hitched at the thought - spank him. Then Jefferson would-

“Alexander Hamilton, I know you're in here! What the hell are you doing with my coat?”

Alexander nearly hit his head on the underside of Washington's desk jumping up in surprise. He worked in vain to be as quiet as possible when he heard footsteps stomping towards him and winced when Washington's chair was pulled aside to let light flood into his hideout.

“Thomas?”

Jefferson seemed impossibly tall from Alexander’s spot on the floor, and his gaze went unfocused at the intensity with which that thought heated his body. The urge to get closer could only be restrained by lifting the hem of Jefferson’s coat to his face and inhaling the heavenly scent, which seemed to break Jefferson out of his surprised trance and propel him into action. 

“Hamilton! Are you wearing my coat? And where the fuck are your pants?”

Alexander flicked his eyes down to his bare legs. “I need to ride the train home in these.”

Jefferson crossed his arms and frowned down at him. “Your point being?”

“I’m really wet,” Alexander breathed in explanation. He was beginning to feel a bit giddy from the high of his heat, and Jefferson was so… much. His coat wrapped around Alex’s body, him standing above Alex, his voice, for once not mocking (too much), directed all at Alex, it was all working to tear down his barriers. “Look,” he prompted, spreading his legs to reveal how shiny the insides of his thighs had become with slick.

He dragged a finger through the mess. His recently spent cock jumped up a bit in interest.

“See,” he muttered, looking back down at himself. “It’s… wet.”

“No shit, idiot,” came Jefferson’s voice above him. Then he was right there, kneeling next to Alex under the desk, so close that a few of his stray curls scratched against his cheek.

_ “Thomas,” _ Alex whined.

“Well, aren’t you going to go on?” Jefferson drawled.

“Nnng…”

Jefferson took his hand and guided it to Alexander’s cock. For the first time he looked up at Jefferson’s face, and let out a light whine at the expression he found there. Jefferson’s gaze was intense, focused on the movement of his and Alexander’s hands, though when he felt Alex’s eyes on him he looked up and they made eye contact. “Thomas,” he murmured. “What are you doing?”

“Just helping you out - am I allowed to do that?”

“Please!”

Jefferson - Thomas - smirked, and tightened his hand around Alexander’s, forcing Alexander to tighten his own grip. “Is this what you want?” He asked. “Or,” he interjected, when Alex opened his mouth to respond enthusiastically, “Would you prefer my fingers?”

“Yes! In me!” Alex gasped, and with his spare hand grabbed Thomas's wrist to take it away from him and guide it further down. He had become even wetter since Thomas had entered the room, so that his nice coat (but of course, he made sure to keep Jefferson's out of harm's way) must be soaked through with slick. He leaned back to allow Thomas better access.

They both froze as the sound of a door creaking open sounded through the room.

“Alexander, are you-” Washington's voice cracked - “In here? Where are you?”

Jefferson pressed a finger to his lips, indicating that Alex ought to try to be quiet. Instead, Alex let out a loud moan at the sound of Washington's voice and let loose another flow of slick.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows at that, but there wasn't time for any other reaction, as Washington had made his way over to the source of the noise and gently placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

“Secretary Jefferson. What are you doing in my office?”

Alexander stared up at Washington, who was hunched over to talk to Thomas. The two stared at each other for a moment, silently communicating, until Alexander, annoyed that the attention had left him, pushed down on Thomas’s fingers, which were just short of being pressed against his entrance. Thomas turned to him and leaned in, pressing his fingers against Alex. “Would you like President Washington to join us?”

“Absolutely,” he whispered.

Thomas smiled and rewarded him by finally pressing in the two fingers that were against his entrance inside of him. Alexander had no trouble at all accommodating him; he was so open he didn’t doubt that if Thomas wanted to, he could just shove into him without any preparation and they would all have a pleasant time from there on out. He moaned at the thought and tilted his head up to stare at Washington, who was, rather awkwardly, standing behind Thomas watching the two. Alexander quickly came to the conclusion that there wouldn’t be room for the three of them under the desk.

“This is hardly an appropriate place to do this, is it?” He said, unable to completely articulate his words because Thomas had just pushed his fingers in farther and was stretching them out in a way that made Alex shudder.

“I suppose so,” Thomas agreed, Washington nodding along with him. Alexander made a noise of disappointment when Thomas pulled out of him, but it was quickly amended when he was hoisted into Thomas’s arms, coat and all. He threw his arm around Thomas’s neck in glee.

“Are we going to bed?” He asked the crook of Thomas’s neck.

“This will do,” Thomas answered, lowering him onto the sofa in the middle of the room.

“I could have walked here,” Alex said indignantly. He flicked his eyes over to Washington, who was standing behind the back of the couch, while Thomas stood in front of it. Being on the couch lacked the comfort of the enclosed space beneath Washington’s desk, but being between the two men made up for that in part, and it was nice to be able to freely touch both of them, which he did when he turned over to lean over the back of the couch and reached out to grasp the front of Washington’s shirt.

Washington obediently leaned down and allowed Alex to kiss him. Alexander stretched out further so he could better wrap his arms around Washington’s neck, while Washington brought his hands down to place them on Alexander’s hips, bunching up Jefferson’s coat and exposing Alexander’s ass to do so.

Alexander enthusiastically tried to deepen the kiss, but felt overwhelmed by everything happening, so as soon as he felt Washington beginning to take control, he relaxed and let himself be taken along for the ride. Washington, luckily, seemed to get the message, and pulled Alexander forward for better access to his mouth. At the same moment, Thomas’s fingers returned to his hole, pressing in suddenly so that Alex gasped and twisted his hands in Washington’s shirt.

“Ugh... More,” he muttered against George’s lips. In response, Thomas added the third finger, and plunged all three in as deep as they could go. Alexander pushed his hips back to meet them. He gasped.

“Yes - there.”

Thomas continued to massage the spot that had made him gasp, working his fingers tirelessly to stretch him out, though Alexander hardly needed it. Soon, his thighs were trembling and he fell forward onto the back of the couch, arms falling from around George’s neck. Slick was sliding down his thighs, and he could almost bring himself to worry about the poor, probably expensive sofa that it was probably about to deface, but then Thomas shoved those fingers against his prostate again and any thoughts he might have been thinking fled from his mind.

George brought a hand up to thread through Alex’s hair, which Alex leaned into gratefully, but it wasn’t enough.

“I want to - be close to you,” he said.

George nodded and moved away, only to reposition himself at the end of the couch, beckoning with a nod that Alexander and Thomas should follow. They did, Alexander crawling on shaky limbs, and Thomas settling behind him on the couch, so that now Alexander had only to lean over the armrest to reach him.

Through the haze that was clogging his mind, he began to understand what was going to happen, and set to fumbling with the buttons of George’s pants, though when Thomas resumed his fingering of Alex, his hands became shaky and he found George reaching down to guide him. He looked up at him and smiled through lidded eyes. “Sir,” he whispered, “Please tell Thomas to fuck me.”

George threaded his hands in Alexander’s hair once more and brought him up to claim his mouth again. “Of course. Mr. Jefferson,” he addressed, “Let’s move along.”

Alexander felt Thomas lean over him, and then the warmth of his mouth on his neck. He whined at the sensation on such a sensitive area, and leaned back into Thomas’s body.

“Is this alright? Can we go on?”

“Yes!” Alexander gasped.

Thomas retreated, and soon after he felt a rush of cold air against his bottom as Thomas flipped up his coat for better access. Alexander blushed in realization that he was still wearing the garment. He steadied himself, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, and began unbuttoning George’s pants once more with purpose. Despite his thighs becoming increasingly wet with slick and his legs shaking with anticipation when he felt the head of Thomas’s cock nudge against his backside, he finished up undoing George’s pants in fair enough time and was just setting to work at peeling them off of him when George placed a large hand over his own two, motioning that he should stop.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Alexander was all too happy to allow George to finish undressing so that he could let go of his concentration and submit to the haze of heat that was settling in his mind. Thomas’s hands on his hips seemed to burn through his skin, and he wished that he would grip him just a little harder; a little more possessively. Even more importantly, Thomas had begun to inch his way inside of him. His body gave almost no resistance; not in this state, when his hole was already leaking and open and he had been fantasizing about this for hours. It was a small affair to get Thomas nestled inside of him, buried as far as he could go. Thomas draped himself across Alexander’s back, panting nearly as hard as he was.

“Whenever you’re ready, darlin’,” he breathed in Alex’s ear.

“Please Thomas, I’ve been ready for  _ hours _ ,”Alex whined in turn. “Please move.”

George began twining his hands in Alexander’s hair, drawing his attention to him now that the man had finished undressing. He was abruptly greeted with George’s thick cock right at his eye level. He glanced up to look George in the eye, ready to ask for permission to take it into his mouth, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Thomas began moving within him, dissolving whatever he was planning on saying into a series of surprised stutters and broken syllables. Instead he just looked up at him pleadingly until George nodded and guided him by the hair so that his lips were nearly touching the tip of his cock.

It was hard for Alexander to steady and prepare himself for what he was about to do when Thomas was beginning to pick up his pace thrusting into him so that it was becoming less like tentative probing and more like fucking. He gripped the arm of the sofa so hard his fingers began turning white, and surged forward to engulf the head of George’s cock before he could think too deeply about it.

Though he had only a small part of George in him, he nearly choked at the sheer surprise of how it… felt. Though he had looked thick, he felt thicker in Alexander’s mouth, and Alex had no idea how he was going to take the rest in.

And it wasn’t a question of  _ if _ he  _ could _ take the rest in, it was most certainly a question of _ how _ he was  _ going  _ to take the rest in, because Alexander was no quitter. With that thought in mind, he let Thomas’s next thrust push him forward, further onto George’s cock, giving him no choice but to engulf more of it - even more than he had expected, because the thrust had struck his prostate head on, and he tried to yell out “There!” before remembering that his mouth was slightly occupied so that he just gagged and sputtered a bit.

George, though, bless his soul, seemed to get the idea. “Do that again, Mr. Jefferson.”

Alexander hummed in agreement. George’s hands tightened in his hair. Thomas thrusted into him again.

Once Thomas had found the spot, it was a nonstop barrage of sensation, and he could hardly focus on his one task. George was understanding, though, and guided him gently with the hands in his hair. Thomas also showed pity on him, slowing down every once in awhile to press soft kisses to his back and neck. Between the two, Alexander felt weak and full - not just physically.

Though his first few attempts had been failures, resulting in him panicking and having to fight his gag reflex, Alexander was soon able to engulf the majority of George’s cock in his mouth, but he was so overwhelmed with the way his body was being handled that he had a hard time moving with any kind of rhythm, and at one point he stopped entirely with George's cock halfway down his throat, basking in the thick scent that lingered around the man's crotch, and didn't realize it until he started choking, unable to breath.

George chuckled and gently pulled him back by the hair. “Easy there, don't hurt yourself.” From there on out he allowed George to use him as he wished, guiding him with his hair and thrusting up into Alex’s mouth while Thomas squeezed his hips almost painfully and fucked him with steady, measured thrusts. While the two of them seemed to have an inhuman amount of control over their movements, Alexander felt his legs and arms begin to tremble against his will with the onslaught of pleasure Thomas was giving him. Soon he collapsed over the arm of the sofa, which changed the angle for both George and Thomas - it took a moment for Alexander to readjust to the sensation of sucking George’s cock, and Thomas reached entirely new parts inside of him that made him gasp and shudder. Taking the pressure off of his arms helped his endurance though, and he felt he might last a bit longer.

Not too much longer, however. His dick remained woefully untouched, throbbing and ready for release. He would have done it himself if he wasn’t so worn out, but, in his state, he resigned to weakly thrusting into the air, throwing off Thomas’s rhythm even with the iron grip the alpha kept on Alex’s hips to keep them in place. His body was producing more slick than ever, easing the way for Thomas and making the movements smoother and easier than ever.

He hummed and made strained noises around the cock in his mouth, pushing back against Thomas to try and tell him what he needed. He didn’t notice Thomas reaching down to comply with his request until a large hand was wrapped around him, surrounding his cock in warmth. Something was missing, though - friction, Alex realized, when he tried to move his hips and Thomas grinded into him, keeping him in place. He whined around George’s cock pathetically, helpless to do anything about his situation.

“Hold on a little longer, Alexander,” Thomas murmured in something of a controlled voice, though his slight lack of breath revealed how close he was getting to release. George, as well, was becoming erratic in his movements. Thomas pounded into him harder than ever, leaving him whining and out of breath as he was driven closer to the edge, and he began to feel a sensation akin to a balloon blowing up inside of him as Thomas’s knot began to expand, and soon Thomas could no longer pull out of him.

Finally Thomas gave him the blessed relief of moving his hand as he started coming, holding Alexander’s hips close with one hand as he grinded into him and pressing in as far as he could. Alexander whimpered at the sensation, and it only took a few strokes of his own cock to send him over the edge.

He shook with the force of his orgasm, choking on George’s cock because he was unable to focus on the rhythm of swallowing and breathing he had fallen into. He felt hands on him - Thomas’s, one still moving on his cock, sending jarring waves of pleasure through him for the duration of his orgasm, the other rubbing comforting patterns on his hip, and George’s, massaging his scalp as he tried to coax Alex into returning to his task. He did, eventually, when the sensations started to die down, but the overstimulation of Thomas still moving inside of him jarred him.

A few more jerky half-thrusts that he couldn’t quite complete because of the knot, and Thomas was coming hard inside of him at the same time that George pulled his head down as far as he could go and he felt his hot release down the back of his throat. Thomas draped himself over him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, grinding into Alex and coming in strong, hot bursts.

The two of them were harsh and frantic for a few moments, tugging and squeezing at Alexander while they came, until Thomas finally collapsed on top of him and George pulled out of him and allowed him to breath properly at last. He let his head fall forward in exhaustion. Through his lashes he saw the shape of Washington kneeling down to be on his level, and looked up to give him a sated smile.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

The edges of George’s lip curled up into a small grin and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Alexander’s abused lips. “You did very good, Alexander,” he mumbled against them. “I wouldn’t object to trying this again some other time.” Alexander glowed with the praise, and his spent cock twitch a bit.

“Oh, yes, please sir,” he breathed, though at the moment he was far too tired to actually act on it.

“I’m sure Mr. Jefferson would not mind either.” Thomas, still inside of Alex because of the knot, made a noise of affirmation, and pulled the pair of them back so he was sitting up and Alexander was sitting in his lap.

“Maybe we could switch places,” Thomas suggested in his ear as George came around to sit on the bit of couch no longer taken up by them. “Would you like that? Would you like President Washington to fuck you?

Alex hummed in agreement, face heating up. He leaned back in contentment. For the first time he regretted that he was still wearing Thomas’s coat, as it prevented his back from coming into direct contact with Thomas’s chest. To make up for it, he held out his arms toward George. “Cuddle me?”

It was difficult with the position Thomas and he were forced to maintain, but the three maneuvered themselves so that Alexander was comfortably sandwiched between Thomas and George. After a few minutes, Thomas went soft enough that he could pull out of Alex, and Alex grinned up at George.

“Ready to go again?”


End file.
